


The Sincerest Form of Flattery

by Lancinate



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, Fluff, Frottage, Introspection, M/M, Sappy Ending, references to loss of virginity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-23
Updated: 2013-12-23
Packaged: 2018-01-05 17:44:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1096739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lancinate/pseuds/Lancinate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With two upcoming movies, Steve's a hot commodity - everyone wants to know what it's like to be him. Tony's not so lucky. And he's trying not to be a dick, but he ends up hurting Steve anyway. </p>
<p>So not only does he have to get over his jealousy and make Steve want to get naked with him again, he's also gotta figure out why Steve's so mad. It's was just one tiny incident, after all. It's not like he took something intimate that happened between them and turned it into a cheap joke to entertain a couple of complete strangers </p>
<p>Oh, wait. It's exactly like that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sincerest Form of Flattery

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Battle of New York: Take 2](https://archiveofourown.org/works/881056) by [nottonyharrison](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nottonyharrison/pseuds/nottonyharrison). 
  * Inspired by [Artwork for The Sincerest Form of Flattery](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1096790) by [nottonyharrison](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nottonyharrison/pseuds/nottonyharrison). 



> This is a part of the MediAvengers MiniBang, so click on the related works for fanart, and, if you want it, an expansion on the backstory.
> 
> A huge thanks to Nottonyharrison for her super awesome art! And also for reading this over and offering support and encouragement. And for titling this piece because I'm really bad at naming things. And for creating this entire event! Great fun was had. 
> 
> The movies referenced in this piece are also her invention, and you can read more by clicking that link to "Battle of New York: Take 2." It's not necessary to get or enjoy this piece, but I strongly recommend it because it's fun and funny and basically the best idea anyone's ever had.
> 
> Teeeeeechnically Jensen Ackles and Channing Tatum are characters in this fic but I'm not comfortable writing RPF nor do I know much about them, so think of them as alternate universe not-real-person versions of themselves and/or plot devices.

Steve’s got these two actors living with them, following him around, studying him. And Tony’s being supportive. 

Trying to be supportive. 

Really, it just rubs him the wrong way, this whole thing. The movies. The fact that he can’t even have a five minute conversation with Steve anymore, without having to schedule it. The fact that they have to sneak around, because god forbid anyone know that Stark Tower has turned into a den of sin.

The fact that there’s nobody who expressed any interest in shadowing him.

He’s gotten two explanations on that matter. There’s the obvious one, the “your public life is so well known. Steve’s a mystery. Even if that’s just a persona, that’s what the audience wants to see.” He gets that. Maybe.

It’s the second, the “well, Captain America’s the real hero of this story,” that pisses him off. And the addendum, “I shouldn’t say hero… he’s the everyman. The one audiences are going to connect with.”

Because every man got injected with a super soldier serum then frozen then reanimated just to wake up in the future and fall for a self obsessed asshole who can’t even be happy for him when people want to celebrate his heroism.

A super serum that gave him the perfect body to go with his perfect personality and unassuming nature and –

God, Tony’s an asshole. He should stop being an asshole.

Sure, everyone just wants to hear about Steve. But that’s all he wants, too. He just wants to be around him, and hear his opinion on everything and study all of his features, all of his little quirks and get to know them more than he knows himself.

He wants to be the only person who gets to know them.

So, he’s a little jealous. Okay. That’s fine. That’s just how this relationship works, this kind of irrational need to have Steve to himself and maybe just stare at him all day, maybe until he gets uncomfortable and adorable and tells him to stop. 

And then maybe devising some series of mirrors so he doesn’t have to stop.

Tony’s really the one they should be talking to. He’s done all the observing for them. He’s not an expert, yet, but he’s going to be. Some day he’ll publish a paper on the facial expressions and body language of Steven Rogers, and it’ll revolutionize the field of observing Steven Rogers, and he’ll have an excuse to just sit there and watch him sleep, because it’s science.

He could probably get away with that, actually, if he collaborated with a psychologist, or tried to draw some conclusion about the serum. Or if his life was a softcore porno, he was a scientist trying to understand desire, and Steve was the young, beautiful, virginal subject.

He should propose that. Steve might be down for it. If Hollywood ever leaves them alone.

They don’t need actors. Steve’s an actor. He could play himself. And Tony’s certainly got enough talent to play the dashingly handsome love interest. 

********

He’s hoping to find Steve without his shadows, but it turns out the other way around. And contrary to popular belief he’s a good host and a decent human being and well, fuck it, the point is instead of turning around or pretending he has something else to do, he goes to join them on the couch. 

Makes some joke about Cap taking 70 years to get back from wherever he went, and gets a polite little laugh.

That’s going well. 

“Tony Stark,” he says, which is entirely superfluous, but much easier than saying he doesn’t know their names.

“Jensen Ackles,” the smaller one says, and Tony thinks he’ll maybe remember this one, and then the other one goes “Channing Tatum,” and he is definitely not going to remember that one.

“I loved you in the uh, stripper thing,” he says, and that’s not a lie. If ability to play Steve is predicated at all on the ability to arouse Tony Stark with your naked body, this guy’s a natural.

He settles down on the couch, gets comfortable. “So,” he says. “Let’s see it.”

“See it?”

“The uh, the Steve,” he says, with some vague gestures. “No pressure, can’t be worse than the man himself.”

He finishes with a grin to remind everybody in the room that he doesn’t actually mean it, because it turns out that secretly fucking someone doesn’t mean you can bad mouth them all the time.

Not that it stops him.

“Aren’t you gonna ask us about the process, first?”

“What process?” The other one says. “I just gotta show up, hit things, maybe look sad sometimes.” 

He smiles, a little cheeky, and Tony grins. That’s a good sign, that’s Steve all over. And besides, it’s reassuring to see him acknowledge what the role is. It’s not a guarantee, but, hell, even just the fact that he’s here makes Tony think he’ll do his best. 

It takes a little prodding, a little cajoling, a little bit of explaining that Jarvis has had the scripts for months, ever since the very first sentence was ever transmitted electronically, and it’s not going to hurt anything if they recite a monologue or two.

They give in eventually. People always give in. He’s Tony Stark. He gets what he wants.

Justin or whatever goes first, plays Steve arguing, and fuck if that scene isn’t written well. They’d read it together, one night before bed, Steve quiet and Tony excitedly jumping from line to line. “I don’t really sound like that,” Steve had said, and Tony had just smiled, and kissed him.

He absolutely does.

And the actor kid’s pretty good. He completely transforms himself and it’s weird, actually to watch it happen, to watch this complete stranger suddenly change into someone else. Not Steve, exactly. But someone close. 

He’s got Steve’s intelligence and intensity down no question. He’s got that look about him, like what he’s saying is important and urgent and not worth laughing at in the slightest.

But he plays him too big. Sure, Steve’s big. Massive. But you get to know him and you completely forget about it, you don’t even think about it until you ask him to pin you down with his body and almost suffocate. 

Of course, Steve’ll get off you right away and get this serious, concerned, panicked look on his face because he thinks you’re convulsing, when really you’re just laughing too hard at this ridiculous near death experience to catch your breath.

Steve’s great.

The other one, the one with the square jaw and really attractive torso, he goes next. It’s a different scene, of course, he’s playing Steve in public, Steve the leader. That guy who’s always right, always respected.

He does it well. He’s a little more charismatic than Steve is, but then maybe that’s Tony’s bias, maybe just a little bit, because somehow he’s the only one who’s ever rolling his eyes when Steve gets going. So maybe that’s okay.

He’s got the subtle humor too, it’s not too big and that’s important. Tony’s got the best sense of humor of anyone he knows and even then sometimes Steve’s jokes will fly under his radar, and he’ll turn around, frowning, just to see Steve’s cheeky grin.

That’s good.

He’s just a little too cocky, he’s playing Steve like he’s the star quarterback but that’s not who he is at all. Even when he’s taking charge it’s with this unassuming nature and maybe that just doesn’t play well for audiences because this isn’t it. 

He’s fully aware that they’re not trying to be perfect Steve’s, that ultimately they’re going to act him however it works for the movie, but that doesn’t stop him from stepping it.

“No, no, no, you’re doing it all wrong,” he says. “My turn.”

“Thanks,” Shannon? That can’t be right. Well, anyway, Shannon says, with a fair degree of sarcasm.

“Oh, I was talking to both of you.”

“That makes me feel better.”

Tony grins. “Okay, you’re both great. My turn.”

He’s not entirely sure what he’s going to do, truth be told, but then when is he? He licks his lips for a second, gets on his tiptoes before realizing his own note about not playing him too big. Just feel like Steve. How does it feel to be Steve? Pretty boring, probably.

Finally, he zeros in on anger, because that’s the one thing they’ve both got in common for sure, except he’s got a better control of it. And he says the first thing that comes to mind, he just starts reciting insults that Steve’s lobbed his way over the year.

He’s not trying to be funny but then maybe he’s not the world’s _best_ actor, because the guys are fighting back smiles. And Tony, well, he’s a born entertainer, so he just goes with it, getting to the really good ones, the ones that really hurt. God, sometimes he misses the days when Steve really hated him. The witty repartee, the passionate, rough, secret makeouts.

“That’s not acting,” Jackson says, eventually, but he’s still clearly enjoying it. “You’re just quoting him now.”

“All right, your turn then,” Tony says, with a little smile, really more of a challenge.

Jordan, maybe, shakes his head. “I wouldn’t really feel right –“

“Steve would think it’s funny,” Tony says. “C’mon.”

“I don’t –“

“There’s nothing Steve hates more than being treated like he’s fragile,” Tony says. “You know, really, I thought you’d know him better by now.”

It’s an obvious, stupid dig, but Jason sighs anyway. “All right, what do you want me to do?”

Before Tony has to think of anything, stripper guy looks up. “Steve at the supermarket. I’ll play me you play him.”

“Oh god,” Tony says. “You took him to a supermarket? I could have told you that was a bad idea.”

“Wasn’t too bad,” Jessup says, as the other guy shakes his head, and Tony can’t help smiling.

Can’t help laughing, as the scene unfolds, because obviously they’re quoting him, because it’s just so completely Steve.

Can’t help feeling just a little bit jealous. 

Whatever. He’s over it. He can enjoy this.

“All right, all right, uh, using a computer.”

“He’s actually pretty good with computers.”

“So make it up.” He doesn’t need realism, damn it. He just wants to think about Steve and smile.

He cycles through every prompt he can think of, sometimes twice, so both of them can take a crack at it, until they’re all laughing harder than they really deserve to.

But Jesus if it isn’t funny, either because they’re spot on or because they’re so, so ridiculously off.

This is like ten times more cathartic than complaining about Steve’s self righteousness, and about three hundred times less bad for their relationship. He should do this more often.

He’s wondering what it costs to hire actors by the hour when they seem to notice that he’s getting a free performance. “So, when are you gonna take your turn again?”

“Oh, I’m good,” Tony says, leaning back, hands behind his head. “Leave this to the professionals.”

“You’ve acted, right?”

“Only in sex tapes.”

He’s not sure which one of them gets the idea. It just kind of spontaneously comes about. It’d be impossible to really say which one of them comes up with it. 

It’s probably Tony. 

But anyway, that’s how he finds himself standing in front of these guys, using his amateur acting skills to play Captain America, losing his virginity.

He clears his throat, looks around quickly. “With the - lights on?”

“Well, okay,” he says, looking down at his body. “No, I’m not embarrassed, I’ve just never -”

He’s not doing the best job, but, whatever, it’s getting laughs.

So he stands there, completely still. “It’s not going in.”

Yeah, that’s funny. He’d laughed, disguising it as a cough with absolutely no success, and then he’d told a frowning Steve to use just a little teensy tiny bit of that super strength, please, and push.

Pauses. “I am pushing.”

He’s not sure how far he should take this but they’re laughing, and Tony’s enjoying that, and he’s got plenty more where that came from, entire transcripts stuck in his head of Steve’s adorable missteps and reactions. 

“Gee,” he says. “I, uh, wow.”

He closes his eyes, leans back, thrusting with slightly spastic strokes.

“Uhn, yeah,” he says, getting into it. “Yeah, that feels good. Ungh, you feel so good. You love it, huh? You love my dick in your ass?”

The guys lose it at that and Tony’s almost surprised, because yeah, things had gotten pornographic pretty quickly, but it’s not that hilarious. And then he realizes the implication of saying ass. These guys think Steve’s some uptight straight guy. They think it’s ridiculous, to lose your virginity fucking someone in the ass. 

He breaks down too, and part of it’s just because laughter is infectious but a lot of it is at this whole situation, at the complete insanity of the fact that he’s standing in front of perfect strangers who have no idea that he’s not just making this up. That Steve actually did these things, perfect beautiful Steve fucked him in the ass, and told him how well he took it and -- 

He looks up and suddenly it’s not okay because there, in the doorway, is Steve. Steve leaning against the frame, arms crossed, expression completely blank. He knows that expression.

This is bad. 

And Tony barely has a chance to react before Steve turns and leaves, doesn’t even have a chance to separate his crotch from the pillow that’s been standing in for him. 

****

He should have run after him. He knows that now, but at the time his priority had been to conceal the shocked look on his face and pretend nothing was wrong, which he’d done successfully, and then duck out of the situation gracefully, and by the time that was accomplished Steve was gone.

Out for a run, Jarvis said.

But Tony’s not a complete idiot. So he waits by the door for an hour and a half until Steve finally comes back, sweaty and breathing heavily and still wearing that red button up shirt.

Tony’s not giving him a chance to talk first. “How long were you there?”

“‘Long enough.”

Well, that’s the stupidest, most useless answer.

“C’mon, babe. It’s fine,” Tony says. And fuck, he’s probably spent an entire hour and a half having terrible thoughts that aren’t even applicable. Worrying about things he doesn’t have to. “I mean, they don’t know we actually fuck.”

Steve gapes at him for what has to be almost a full minute, or maybe just 6 really long seconds, before he gets words out. “How could you –” 

“It’s not like I said anything you haven’t.”

Steve stares Tony down, and wow, he is clearly trying to make him feel small and terrible. “That makes it _better_?”

Tony winces, visibly, trying to convey some lack of intention. “Doesn’t it?”

Steve glares at him, and then slowly, excruciatingly slowly, that glare tempers off to something Tony can’t quite place.

“Steve?”

Steve licks his lip, not making eye contact anymore. “What you did was -- I trusted you, Tony.”

That was stupid of him.

“What you did was unbelievable and unacceptable and --.”

“I mean-”

Steve shakes his head, that glare coming back because apparently this isn’t a conversation where Tony gets to talk.

“You took the most important, intimate moment we’ve ever had and you turned it into some cheap joke,” Steve says. “And you don’t even understand why that hurts me.”

So that’s what the look is. This is what Steve looks like when he feels like he’s feeling betrayed by someone who should know him better. 

He can’t tell if Steve’s angry, or on the verge of tears, or on the verge of angry tears.

He never gets to find out, because Steve just walks past him, shrugging Tony’s hand off his shoulder, ignoring his attempts at explanation. “I can’t talk to you right now.”

****

He gives him some time to cool down, a couple of days, and then he shows up with flowers and chocolates and a book about ships in the hopes that one of those things will work.

“I got carried away,” he says. “We were just having fun, and I got caught up in all of these memories and I felt like I needed to share them. I didn’t mean to betray you. I wasn’t trying to betray you. I love you, okay? And it’s been killing me that I can’t share that with anyone. It’s been killing me that you spend all of your time with those guys and not with me.”

“That’s not how you do that, Tony,” Steve says, accepting the gifts like he’s not sure why they’re here. “There’s no reasoning that makes it okay.”

“I know,” Tony says. “I know. I was wrong. I know that. Ask Jarvis.”

“I’d rather you spoke for yourself.”

“I’m stupid,” he says. “I like attention. You knew that when you got into this.”

That’s definitely the wrong thing to say. He can see Steve’s face closing off.

“I’m not saying it’s your fault,” he says, a little too tense. “I just, look, I fucked up. I know that. Please, don’t let it ruin everything we have.”

Steve’s silent a moment, that infuriatingly superior silent he gets when he thinks he’s about to say something important. “Like trust?”

Well.

Finally, Steve shrugs. “I’m not so happy they’re here either.”

Tony shouldn’t make light of that. He does. “Why the hell not? They’re hot and they pay a lot of attention to you. I’d be in heaven.”

“There are more important things, Tony. Like respecting the people who died, and the people who worked really hard to prevent more people from dying. And I don’t know if these movies are what we need.”

Steve shakes his head. “I thought I could count on you to make me feel better, not worse.”

Does he deserve that? Probably. “Well, sorry I fucked that up. Why don’t you just make them leave.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“So what, you just want to be miserable and complain about it?”

“It makes me feel better to see that they’re taking it seriously,” Steve says. “I like having them here. But ten minutes with you and they’re cracking up over maybe the most important moment we’ve ever had.. Something that I thought mattered to you.”

“Of course it mattered to me.”

Steve shakes his head. “Sure got a strange way of showing that.”

Of course it fucking mattered to him. More than anything. “I can’t even remember either of their names, but I can recite line for line everything you said to me that night.”

“Because it was so hilarious,” Steve says, eyes somehow even darker now.

“Because you’re really fucking important to me.,” Tony says. “I mean, yeah, okay, some things happened to be funny. Most things. But I bet I’ve said way funnier things in bed.”

“But you’re _trying_ to be funny.”

“Not always.”

Steve shrugs. “You don’t understand.”

“I do,” Tony says. “I betrayed your trust and that was awful. I get that. And I’m sorry, and I really want to make it up to you.”

“But you don’t –“ Steve pauses shakes his head. “Never mind.”

“Then tell me.”

“I’ve tried.”

“Then show me.”

“How?”

“I told you, do it to me. C’mon.”

Steve frowns. “I’m not going to pretend to be you in front of them.”

Tony laughs. “No, just for me. I know it’s not the same, but maybe it’ll make you feel better.”

Steve shrugs. “I’ll think about it,” he says, but it’s clear he’s only saying that as a way to end the conversation.

****

Steve slowly, slowwwwly thaws out over the next few days, and Tony does his best to grovel. It’s hard, when he knows that all it’ll really take to get past this now is some good makeup sex. But Steve knows that too, and he’s doing his best not to let it happen.

It’s not even his fault, really. They’re busy people.

So on Thursday he cancels a meeting that might have been important but was probably wasn’t, and lures Steve into his room with the promise of a really good NPR article.

“It’s all about second chances, and giving me one, and how maybe if you’ll just try what I suggested we’ll both be happy.”

“I knew there wasn’t an article.”

“And yet you’re here. So you obviously want to forgive me.”

Steve’s face tightens into something Tony doesn’t really like. “I want to.”

“But?”

“I don’t know if I should.”

That’s too far, that’s awful and vindictive and Tony’s not gonna put up with it. “If you’re going to break up with me then fucking do it, okay?”

“You’re right,” Steve says. “I’m sorry.”

“So…”

“Do you understand why this matters to me?”

“Yeah, in theory.” He understands it, obviously, he’s very intelligent and Steve’s explanation was clear enough, he’s just not feeling it. He understands that Steve’s overreacting, if he’s still upset after this long. 

“So.”

“So show me.”

“How?”

“C’mon,” Tony says, feeling a distinct urge to roll his eyes. “I told you. Do it to me.”

Because if Steve does it to him, he’ll realize that it’s just fun, and a little bit of entertainment. No big deal.

Steve licks his lower lip contemplatively, and Tony’s not patient so he takes that as a yes and pulls him toward the bed. “Do me.”

Steve slowly, deliberately raises an eyebrow, one corners of his mouth turning up. “ _Do_ you?”

Tony grins. “Be me.”

Steve narrows his eyes, puts his hands on Tony’s hips. “How about both?”

“Uh, uh. I want a show.”

“Oh, I’ll give you a _show_ ,” he says, looking at Tony with lightly pursed, parted lips, openly raw desire. 

Tony swallows. “So are you… is that supposed to be me?”

Steve frowns. “Are you gonna let me do this, or what?”

“Okay,” Tony says, hands up in mock surrender. “Right. Go for it.”

Steve looks at him a moment, that same expression settling over his face. “Okay, pumpkin butt.”

Tony wrinkles his nose. “I’ve never called you that. That’s not sexy.”

“Many times,” Steve says breaking character again to grin. “it’s really not.”

Tony rolls his eyes, and then Steve kisses him, softer than usual, fingers running over his lips. And damn, he really is as good of a kisser as he’s always assumed he was. He imagines it’s better when it’s actually him, though, and not just someone pretending to be him. 

He could probably make a replica of himself and program it to kiss and find out.

That’s probably not a good idea.

He’ll have time to start on it tomorrow.

“Are you paying attention?”

He snaps back, and Steve’s frowning at him, and whoops, not a great time to have a great idea.

“Wow, that is so not me,” Tony says. “I mean like, if you really want my attention, put my hand on your cock or something. Don’t just _ask_.”

Steve frowns. “You’re the one who said I should do this.”

“Okay, okay, darling. I’m completely, one hundred percent invested. Keep going.”

Steve kisses him, again, whether it’s because he’s running out of ideas, or he really likes kissing. Either is fine with him. And right on schedule there are Steve’s hands under his shirt, barely even touching his torso before he’s lifting it off of him and how many times has he heard that it’s not a race, they don’t need to be naked right away, but now here’s Steve lifting his own shirt off, all muscles pressing against him and maybe Steve should pretend to be him more often.

And then Steve’s sprawled out on the bed, legs spread as far as the tight jeans will let him, his best approximation of a come-hither look on his face. “Ravage me, you steaming hunk of man.” 

He makes it about halfway through the sentence before he breaks, a huge grin spreading across his face, and Tony climbs on the bed next to him just so he can swat him on the ass. “Come on, I only said that once.”

“Are you going to keep interrupting every two seconds?”

“Maybe,” Tony cocks his head. “Maybe you should do something to shut me up.”

Steve licks his lip, slow, like he’s contemplating something especially naughty. And then he sits up, grabs Tony by the shoulders, twists him so his back’s against Steve’s bare chest, one hand’s covering his mouth, and the other’s around his neck in a headlock. “Like this?” 

He’s clearly oh so pleased with himself, and Tony’s not sure if he should laugh or feel terribly put out because Steve’s hand, while rugged and manly and warm and sexy against his mouth and –

Well. He’s kinda okay with that. 

But okay with that is not how this game goes so he sticks his tongue out, slides it wet and messy over Steve’s palm. He learned a thing or two when he was 5, after all.

“You know,” Steve says, whispering into his ear, “that doesn’t work so well when I _want_ you to lick me.”

Steve’s teeth settle gently over Tony’s earlobe, his tongue flicking along the edge, and then he goes lower, licking at the only part of Tony’s neck that isn’t already against him, making him shiver. 

“You want me so bad, don’t you.”

There’s nothing Tony can say to that, or rather nothing he can say that Steve will understand so he just closes his eyes and moans, because yes, he wants him so bad, it’s been killing him, that’s the understatement of the year and Steve has no idea.

Well, actually, to judge by how hard he feels against Tony’s ass, even through the jeans, Steve has some idea.

But Tony’s harder, and if he were in charge right now he’d be taking his pants off, thank you very much, to hell with all of this foreplay.

Steve’s got other ideas.

He slides one hand down Tony’s torso, cupping one of his pecs. “Look at these,” he says, and god how did Tony not see this one coming. “They’re just like a woman’s tits, baby. All big and bouncy and beautiful. Should get you a bra so you don’t hurt you back carrying these around. Fuck, I just want to squeeze them.”

It does not feel bad. He would go so far as to say that it feels good, very good, even with the little weird, numb sensation as Steve’s hand touches scar tissue. He imagines it’d feel even better, if he had much to grab.

No wonder Steve’s never really complained.

Steve takes his other hand off Tony’s mouth, so he can fondle both of his pecs, and Tony takes that as his cue to join in. “Well, gee, I –”

“Watch it, mister.” Steve says, the grin apparent in his voice. “I still haven’t decided if I’m forgiving you.”

“Oh, you’re forgiving me.”

“I am?” Steve’s fingers slide along his obliques, making him shiver involuntarily. “What makes you so sure?”

“Well,” Tony says, grinding against him. “For starters, I have a great ass.”

“Shame about your personality.”

“ _Secondly_ ,” Tony says, steamrolling over that little interruption. “I’m wholly, completely, terribly, painfully sorry. And capable of coming up with more adverbs if that will help.”

“Hmm,” Steve says, running his hands down Tony’s torso, ghosting them over the button to his pants, and sadistically leaving it fastened. 

Tony could take them off himself, obviously. But he’s trying to be vulnerable here. 

“You know the suspense is killing me, right?”

Steve’s not helping at all with that, choosing that moment for an awkward rearrangement so that they’re face to face. And then he cocks his head, brushing a strand of hair out of Tony’s eyes. “Of course I forgive you.”

“No, I was talking about the status of my pants.”

Steve rolls his eyes.

“But also, awesome, you forgive me. Yay.”

“You wanna know why?”

“Okay,” Tony says. “I’ll bite. If it gets my pants off.”

“Because,” Steve says, his mouth twitching, he’s trying so hard to hide a smile, to hide how amused he is by whatever he’s about to say, but he can’t. Whatever it is, it’s gonna be hilarious. Or at least, Steve thinks so. 

He’s expecting it to be hilarious, of course. Tony’s funny, and Steve’s barely scratched the surface of his antics.

What he isn’t expecting is for Steve to recite back to him, line for line, a cheesy, cutesy line that he’d used once, not really a line so much as almost a love poem, maybe, except that he’d said that Steve’s eyes were like stars and his ass was like a really great ass, and being with him made his life have meaning and sometimes he didn’t even want to fall asleep because he wasn’t sure he’d dream about Steve or not, and other stupid, inane shit like that.

Objectively, yeah. It’s probably kinda funny.

But Tony’s not laughing.

He remembers saying it. It was the third time they had sex, not the sexy part but the part after, where they were laying gross and sweaty on the bed and he’d had Steve’s arm on his chest and he’d been feeling so comfortable and safe and he’d said the only things he could think of to express how perfect he felt and sure, it came out cliche, but he thought he got the point across.

Obviously, he didn’t.

“Okay,” he says. “I get it. You can stop.”

Steve raises an eyebrow. “What?”

“I get it. It’s not cool, I get it. I was a jerk.”

“Wait, _that’s_ what makes you realize?”

Tony shrugs. “I mean, the other stuff was pretty ridiculous. I didn’t really mean it.”

“You really meant that?”

“Uh-huh.”

Steve laughs.

“It’s not funny.”

“It’s a little funny.”

“Okay, fuck it, I’m taking my own pants off,” Tony says, and he almost gets away with it, but then Steve’s hands are around his wrists.

“Hey,” Steve says, fixing him with this soft, stern look. “I love you.”

And that’s really not doing anything for his cock, but somehow it’s so nice to hear anyway.

Maybe that’s more important, right now. 

Feelings and shit.

“I love you too,” he says, wrapping his hands around Steve’s neck, forgetting about himself for a moment. “I’m sorry. And I meant all that crap, too, and at least now you know I wasn’t just being stupid, I guess.”

“I knew,” Steve says, speaking the words right onto Tony’s lips, following them with his own, crushing him, just a little, with the weight of his body. “Not that, I wouldn’t have said it if I knew I’d upset you. I just knew. You didn’t need words.”

If he suffocated right now, it’d be okay. Not a bad way to go.

But Steve seems to notice because he rolls them over, so Tony’s straddling him, and fucking finally, he undoes Tony’s pants, the rough pads of Steve’s fingers freeing his cock from the silk boxers it’s been trapped in. And all he gets is that brief contact, that’s all it takes to draw a moan from his lips.

Steve’s special, it seems, Steve gets to take his pants off all the way. But Tony doesn’t care, not really, he’s fine with just shoving his down a little bit, far enough that he doesn’t need to get up, far enough that Steve can hold his ass, and he can rub his cock against Steve’s, enough that he doesn’t need anything else.

God, he loves the way Steve moans, the way he writhes underneath him, his hips rolling to meet his, the way his hands knead against Tony’s ass, the way his breath comes out ragged and rough, like he’s struggling to hold himself together. 

God, he loves Steve.

Steve is so much better than any Tony Stark sex robot he could build for himself, or for the two of them to share, or for Steve when he’s out of town or –

Well, it’s really too early to make any rash decisions about scrapping that project. He hasn’t done his due diligence.

But the fact remains that right now, Steve is what he needs, and tomorrow it’ll be the same, and the next day, because that’s how it’s been from the very first second he met him.

He slides his hands under Steve’s back, holding him tighter, like if he pulled hard enough, if they were just in sync enough, they could be joined forever.

He should probably never say that out loud.

And god, this is good. Steve’s breath against his ear is one of his favorite things, the warmth of his body a close second and fuck if he’s not going to last much longer. 

“Oh, god, Tony,” Steve moans. “I’m so close.”

It’d be perfect, if they could finish together. That’d be symbolic and great and fitting but it’s also impossible because Steve’s voice, the lust and love and urgency in his voice is all takes to push Tony over the edge.

He presses his lips against Steve’s neck because this is an orgasm he wants to ride out silently, like somehow he won’t be calling attention to himself.

And there’s really never a moment that Tony stops thinking, not even with all of the drugs and the alcohol there’s never been a moment when he’s entirely just there.

But right now, coming too early, his hands in Steve’s hair, Steve’s breath hot in his ear, their hips moving like they’re one person, well, it’s the closest he’s ever been.


End file.
